


Saturday Mornings

by chimaeracabra



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Returns, F/M, Family, Fluff, dad bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: A Saturday morning with the Barnes family.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 16





	Saturday Mornings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Secrets Aren't for Keeping](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799851) by [chimaeracabra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra). 

> Pre-Teddy days, a moment with Bucky and his wife and their daughter.

“No, Stina. Mommy doesn’t eat those,” Bucky explains, stopping the five-year-old from cracking another egg into the pan he had cleaned off with a damp dishtowel. His daughter looks at him like he’s crazy and he laughs, pulling her down off the stepping stool she was using to reach the stove with him. He continues leaning over her as she speaks.

“Mumma doesn’t eat eggs?”

“No, peanut. Remember? Mommy doesn’t eat anything that comes from animals,” Bucky explains, smiling at her. She gazes skywards.

“Eggs come from chickens,” she says.

“Yes, baby girl, they do. But we have a substitute for mumma.”

He clasps the child’s hand and leads her to the refrigerator. The little yellow bottle is full. He had purchased this egg substitute per Cherise’s request while shopping at Whole Foods the previous afternoon, shortly after picking up their daughter from school.

“This is what is called an egg substitute,” he explains, handing the bottle to Christina.

“Ju…Just egg,” she reads, her little finger tracing the black lettering on the bottle.

“Yup, that’s right! Good job, Stina. Now, I need you to shake the bottle as hard as you can. Can you do that?” Bucky asks, walking towards the sink to wash the spatula which is still greased with olive oil spray from cooking the regular eggs. Prior to turning the water on, Bucky can hear the sound of his daughter shaking up the bottle. He laughs to himself quietly, lathering the purple spatula with a sponge before thoroughly rinsing it. When he turns around, Christina is still shaking the bottle, clutching it in both her tiny hands, her face rubifying as her heart rate increases.

“Okay—okay, baby. That’s good. You don’t gotta tire yourself out.” Christina is panting when Bucky retrieves the bottle from her. She jumps up and down excitedly twice, proud of herself, laughing. Bucky giggles, opening the bottle and turning the heat on the front burner again. He sprays the pan with more olive oil.

“I wanna help!” Christina begs.

“Okay, baby, but you gotta let daddy help you again,” he explains, lifting her up under her arms again.

“What do I do, daddy?” Her sweet voice causes his heart to throb. He kisses the top of her head.

“Hold the bottle and pour it into the pan, just enough to get enough all over the pan,” he explains. Christina picks up the bottle and gingerly pours it, just a little bit.

“Like this, daddy?” he kisses the back of her head again, taking a deep inhale. She still smells like the bubble gum bubble bath he had run for her the previous night.

“A lot more, peanut,” he says. Christina pours until the black part of the pan is no longer visible. He sets her down on her feet, turning the heat up on the stove a little bit more.

“We’re going to bring breakfast to mommy in bed,” he explains, picking a large strawberry from the colander of berries his daughter had helped him to rinse off, pulling off the calyx before handing it to her. Christina smiles, biting into the berry. Looking into her eyes has always made him weak. They are his own eyes, but the shape is entirely Cherise’s.

“I wanna make the pancakes,” Christina explains, her mouth full, reaching for her cup of apple juice on the counter.

“Mhmm. We will make them next,” he promises.

“With blueberries?” Christina asks.

“You know it, baby girl.”

As he finishes cooking, allowing Christina to help out here and there, he hopes that Cherise is still sleeping. He wants it to be a surprise. Christina had sauntered into their room and woken him up around 9:30, saying she’d had a bad dream, and Bucky had carried her down to the kitchen for a cup of juice to calm her down. Christina always came to him first over monsters under her bed and bad dreams because she knew that it meant getting something sweet as a treat. She also loved the way that Bucky would pretend to warn the monsters under her bed to beat it, pretend to catch them and beat them up. Bucky could hardly deny the girl. Christina was also a daddy’s girl, to be honest. He knew that Cherise had finished a taxing week at work and just wanted to make sure that she slept enough. So, when he suggested to their daughter that they make breakfast, she quickly forgot about her nightmare and was excited to help him.

By the time Bucky has compiled three plates, two of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and one with pancakes, fake eggs, and fruit, Christina is begging to carry one plate up the stairs.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he says, “But they’re just too heavy for you to carry. Daddy’s going to use the tray, but you can bring mommy a flower from the garden,” he explains, stooping to Christina’s height where she’s grimacing with her arms crossed after he explains to her for the fifth time that she’s too small to carry anything that heavy. He pushes some hair out of her face and kisses her forehead, before rising to push the tray of food further back on the table and out of her reach.

“Wait right here,” he explains, unlocking the back door and walking out into the yard. He returns moments later with a solitary purple hydrangea flower which he had delicately clipped from one of the plants in the yard. Christina’s face lights up again.

“You gotta be careful with it,” he says, handing it to her, “You don’t wanna crush it.”

Christina nods, admiring the colorful plant.

“I’m gonna put it in mumma’s hair,” she explains excitedly, turning to start running up the stairs.

“Wait for me,” he laughs, hurrying to grab the tray of food and bring it up the stairs. He walks carefully with it after Christina, who is almost out of sight by the time he reaches the stairs. He knows she is probably already at the door to his and Cherise’s bedroom. By the time he makes it to their room, he witnesses his daughter climbing into the bed. He carefully and quietly places the tray on the nightstand and hovers there with a grin on his face. Christina climbs carefully on top of Cherise, who is sleeping prone. Christina pulls the hair out of her mother’s face and lays atop her, whispering into her ear.

“Mumma,” she says, running her little fingers through Cherise’s hair. Cherise stirs briefly, reaching for her back where the girl is resting.

“James?” she says weakly, smiling slowly. Christina giggles.

Christina squeezes Cherise, having dropped the hydrangea a few inches away from Cherise’s face.

“Oh, hi my baby,” Cherise exhales, gradually opening her eyes.

“Surprise!” Christina says. Cherise laughs and starts to sit up, Christina rolling off of her and grabbing the hydrangea to present it to her.

“Oh, is that for me?” Cherise asks, wrapping an arm around Christina. Christina nods, pushing the flower into Cherise’s disheveled hair. Cherise yawns before fixating on Bucky who is picking up the tray to bring it to the bed, Christina between them.

“Oh my gosh, is this for us?” she asks excitedly.

“Yes. I helped daddy make breakfast,” Christina explains, reaching for a piece of bacon in one of the plates and stuffing it into her mouth. Bucky laughs as the girl gazes excitedly from one parent to the other before collapsing with her arms folded behind her head. Bucky kisses Cherise’s forehead and cheek.

“This plate’s for you,” he explains, “JUST eggs, pancakes, and some fruit.”

“Thank you,” she says, kissing him on the lips. Christina sighs at this.

“Nasty,” she says, pushing them apart. Bucky laughs.

“What do you mean, nasty?” he asks. Christina wrinkles her nose, shaking her head, reaching for a pancake.

“No—we have forks, baby,” Bucky explains, pressing a plastic one into her hand before she can make a syrupy mess of the bed. He turns to help her sit up straight before pressing a plate into her little lap.

“No kissing,” Christina states. Cherise stifles a laugh, “Eat,” she says.

“Well, I’m going to kiss mommy one more time,” Bucky explains, clutching the back of Cherise’s head and planting a fat one on her mouth. Christina makes disgusted noises, causing them both to laugh.

“Daddy! Look what you’re doing!” Christina complains, picking up the flower which had fallen out of Cherise’s hair.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky explains pleadingly. Christina nearly spills her plate of food when she stands to put the flower back in Cherise’s hair. He’s quick to catch it before anything can make contact with the quilt. He gives Christina all the time she wants to smooth her mother’s hair back and stick the flower back in it.

“Thank you,” Cherise beams.

“Don’t touch it again, daddy,” Christina warns, wagging her finger. He stifles a laugh.

“Okay. It was an accident. Honest,” he explains, raising both his hands before telling the girl to sit down again so she can eat. And she does. The trio eats contentedly, the morning sun filtering like gold through the curtains. Christina tells the two all about her week in great detail between mouthfuls of blueberry pancakes. Bucky memorializes the moment in his brain, admiring how perfect the two most important people in his life are, Cherise’s hair a disheveled mess, despite their daughter’s attempt to fix it up, Syrup dripping down Christina’s chin. He couldn’t have been more content.


End file.
